Enthralled

by Lora Leigh

  Considering the shared past between the two races of Chrechte, Bryant had no trouble understanding why that decision had been made. “Just as your clan isn’t aware you are a raven?”

  “Some in my clan know,” Circin admitted easily.

  And then something became clear to Bryant. Circin had shifted where Bryant and the others could see him because he trusted them. “You are acting as a bridge even if others do not know it.”

  A faint blush darkened the laird-in-training’s cheeks. “The trust between the Chrechte brethren must start with the individual man.”

  “And woman,” one of the Sinclair warriors added solemnly.

  They all nodded. Highland Chrechte understood the value of all their people. Among the clans, human women were often seen as chattel, but the Chrechte were not like that.

  Ancient laws dictated that all had their place before the Creator. Man was nothing without woman and woman was nothing without man. Just as the Éan were not complete without the Faol and the Faol were not complete without the Éan.

  The different races of Chrechte had been created for a reason and it was not the role of any individual to try to change that. No matter how misguided and downright evil the actions of some of the Faol.

  He still found it hard to believe that in only a few generations the memory of the other races of the Chrechte had been taken from the Faol, leaving the wolves to believe they were the only shape-changers in existence.

  Now, others besides just Bryant’s family knew and believed their ancient stories were more than simply that. They were a history of people that had indeed lived and still did live, if in secret deep in the forest for the past centuries.

  One day, wolves and the birds would unite with the Paindeal, their cat-shifting brothers and sisters, again as well. It had to be so.

  Bryant had not been chosen as emissary by accident. He passionately desired the reconnection of their races.

  Had been raised since he was a whelp to believe the time would come when the Éan would be accepted once again among the Faol. Must be accepted.

  The desire to make it so was imbedded deep inside him and he would see it to its conclusion.

  The Éan needed to join the clans as the Faol had done, for all their good and safety.

  * * *

  Tucked against a branch high in her tree, Una watched in her eagle form as the six Faol warriors followed Circin of the Donegal and her own prince on horseback into the village, riding past the base of the trees in which most of the Éan made their dwellings.

  Where there had once been a couple of caves prepared for the humans who stumbled upon the Éan’s secret homeland to live in, the village now had several huts. They were for the mostly human families that had chosen joining their tribe over death, or had been born into it since an ancestor made that choice. Very few Éan dwelt among them, those mated to a human or who had been injured in some way that prevented flight.

  Her father was one such bird. The home he shared with her mother was at the base of the very tree in which Una perched. She had wanted to live with them when they’d been forced to leave their home among the trees, but her parents had both refused.

  She would be safer in their old home high above, they said. A bird should not live on the ground, her father claimed. Their home should not be abandoned, her mother insisted. And Una had known that they were right on all points.

  So, she had stayed in the humble dwelling built in the giant ancient oak tree by one of her ancestors.

  However, the five years since her horror had been lonely ones. Her parents did not know it, but Una never invited others to share the space that echoed with the loss her family had endured because of her curiosity and disobedience.

  It was not just wolves she had a difficulty being in close proximity to. There were only a select few she could stand to be nearby, and the children. The little ones caused no panic in her.

  Thanks be to the Creator, because Una’s one contribution to her tribe hinged on her ability to be near the young ones.

  Her thoughts of the children ceased as the warriors drew close enough for her eagle’s vision to make out details of the wolves sent by the clans to somehow prove the improbable . . . that a Faol could be trusted by the Éan.

  The warriors were huge, appearing even bigger as they got closer. Some few among their people, like Prince Eirik, shared such stature, but it was not so common among the Éan as the Faol to stand head and shoulders above human men.

  One wolf in particular caught her sharp eagle’s eye. Wearing the blue and green plaid with thin yellow stripes of the Balmoral, this one wore no shirt with his kilt. The muscles on his arms and torso bulged with strength. A triangle of dark hair to match that on his head covered the skin of his chest made golden by its exposure to the sun.

  Brown hair brushed his broad shoulders, the hairs on his face neither clean shaven, nor bristly with an unkempt beard. Sheared neatly to his skin, they accentuated the hard angles of his cheeks and strong jaw.

  The wolf’s feet were bare, the muscles of his legs strong and corded. The only thing he wore besides the plaid was a huge sword and a knife at his waist.

  He looked more imposing than the wolf counterpart he could shift into.

  And this man was supposed to come in peace, an emissary for the Faol?

  Though the others continued on, he stopped his mount near her father’s hut. Turning first to the right and then to the left, he seemed to be looking for something. He cocked his head, inhaling, as if sniffing the air.

  Why? What had caught his attention?

  Una let out a strangled screech when his head snapped up and his piercing grey gaze was directed right toward her.

  A wolf, not an eagle, he should not be able to see her amidst the leaves and branches. Only she felt as if his keen grey eyes were looking right into those of her eagle.

  One of the soldiers doubled back, stopping next to him. It was the other Balmoral soldier, by the colors of his plaid. He said something to the grey-eyed wolf, but she could not make out the exact words.

  She’d perched herself too far up, and unlike the wolves, her sense of hearing was barely better than that of a human.

  Petrified by the Faol warrior’s presence and yet feeling a wholly inexplicable longing to fly down and get a closer look, she remained still on the branch.

  The other soldier said something again, this time his tone sharper. The grey-eyed man finally turned away and kneed his horse into motion. Just as her father came out of the hut.

  Collision seemed imminent and Una let out a shriek of distress, her eagle louder than her human woman would ever be.

  But her father did not end up in the dirt, his bad leg taken out from under him. The wolf, moving faster than she’d seen even among the Éan, had dismounted and nudged his horse out of her father’s path with his own body.

  Unable to deny the need to get closer, Una hopped down from branch to branch until she could hear the Balmoral soldier apologizing to her father.

  Her father ignored the man’s words, turning without acknowledging him and staring up into the tree. As if he, too, could sense her presence, which was far more likely. Considering he did have the vision of an eagle and was her father besides.

  Even if he had not seen her eagle among the limbs of the tree, her father would know of Una’s need to see the wolves as they entered the village.

  “You are not to come to the village for the time being,” he called up to her, proving her supposition correct.

  She had no intention of coming into the village with the wolves there, but something stirred inside Una that had not stirred in five years.

  Curiosity and aggravation at the restrictions placed on her. It only took remembering what those feelings had led her into before, and she was taking flight, making her way back up toward her home with a speed she would normally reserve for chasing prey.

  Not that she did much hunting. Even in her eagle form, she could not stomach the hunt. Not after being
made into prey herself.

  An eagle, Una should have become a warrior like the princess, Sabrine, and some of the other strong women among their people.

  But Una had no stomach for battle and even less for bloodshed. She should be protecting her people, but Una was inept at any but the most basic tactics of fighting.

  Her parents had never said so, but they had to be so disappointed that their only child had turned out to be such a poor Éan.

  THREE

  Bryant watched the older Éan go back into his hut, unsurprised by the surly lack of welcome.

  The Faol had a lot to answer for in their past treatment of the Éan. He and the other wolf soldiers were here in the forest of the Éan for a purpose . . . to show that the Faol as a whole no longer held the wrongheaded views of their ancestors.

  There were still some out there, acting in secret against their brethren shifters, but they would be dealt with when they were revealed. With more mercy than most deserved. But the eagle shifter Lais was proof that not only could others besides the Faol fall prey to the wrong thinking that led to wanting to eradicate the Éan, but at least some of those so deceived could be convinced of the truth as well.

  With the help of information from Lais, Barr was searching the Donegal clan diligently for the old seeds left behind by their former laird, an evil man who had not respected either human or Éan life.

  As his horse took him forward, Bryant’s wolf howled in protest. The beast inside him wanted to climb that tree and investigate the intriguing scent that had stopped him at its base.

  Considering the number of looks of distrust, and some of outright fear, he and the other wolves had received upon their arrival, that was one course of action that could lead to the very opposite result from the one they wanted. Bryant needed to show the Éan he wasn’t a threat.

  Against the urges of his wolf, he nudged his horse forward to follow Circin and Prince Eirik farther into the village.

  Four of the soldiers were placed in homes with human members of the Éan tribe. None with the bird shifters, and two of them, Bryant and Donnach, were given their own small hut to share. Which meant out of all the homes in the village, only four had been willing to have wolves staying with them.

  Prince Eirik had explained that after his people had grown used to their presence, Bryant and Donnach would be given the option of living in the treetop dwelling that housed the prince and his grandmother. From there, they would be able to spend more time with the Éan themselves.

  Bryant chose to see that as progress rather than further proof the Éan were not ready to integrate with the clans. As his laird had warned him was most likely the case.

  According to stories Bryant’s grandfather told, the wolves had not liked joining the human clans, either. Especially after MacAlpin’s betrayal, but his forefathers had realized that if the Chrechte wanted to survive, the move was a necessary one.

  And in some ways, it was easier done after MacAlpin’s betrayal, when no easily acknowledged prince among their own people could be identified because MacAlpin had killed them all.

  Not like with the Éan. They had Prince Eirik, who all expected to be named king upon his twenty-fifth birthday.

  The Éan had their own spiritual leader, too, and a sacred stone, the Clach Gealach Gra, used during their Chrechte rituals. The Faol had either never had a stone, or lost it many years ago and had long since given up their celi di in favor of the human’s priests.

  The Éan were also used to living as they did in the forest, like thieves hiding from the magistrate.

  Convincing them of the need to rejoin their brethren and become part of the clans, where many of their freedoms would be curtailed even as they enjoyed others, would be no easy task.

  And still, Bryant’s wolf had more interest in the scent that caught his attention than in their task at hand.

  * * *

  The mists of the spirit world swirled around Una’s legs, even as her shift grew damp and clung to her form. Though she slept, this was no dream.

  She had heard of this, the ability some Chrechte had to meet on a plane not purely physical. Oh, it felt real enough, but she experienced it on a level that would impact her body, could even leave marks on it if the stories were to be believed, but where her body had not actually come.

  She had always believed such was only possible for the celi di, those of the royal blood and some very blessed sacred mates. She was none of those and yet she was here. Wherever here was.

  The forest around her did not look like her forest, but had trees wider than ten Faol warriors standing shoulder to shoulder, and so tall she could not see their tops standing below them. The green moss growing on the north side of their trunks was a brilliant green, brighter than anything in the forests of her home.

  Flowers grew in clumps of vibrant colors, irises standing waist high to peek through the ever-swirling mists. Birds chirped, though she could not see them, and the sound of a brook babbled in the distance.

  Though she’d gone to sleep in the night, the moon high in the sky, it was early morning here, the sun still trailing a golden glow on the horizon.

  The sound of a rider on a horse approaching had her turning from the sun, only to see the man from the day before galloping on his big brown warhorse. He spied her. There was no question that he’d done so, for he quickly changed direction, pulling his huge beast of a horse to an abrupt halt before her.

  The horse tossed its head as the rider looked down at her in confusion. “Who are you?”

  “I am Una.” None of the panic she usually experienced around strangers came to plague her, and she found the smallest of smiles tilting her lips upward.

  There was joy in being able to address this man without fear.

  “I do not know you,” the grey-eyed man said, his brows drawn together.

  “I am aware.” Her smile grew. “I have told you my name. Now, tell me yours.”

  She did not know this boldness in the physical world, but here, she felt safe. This was the Chrechte spirit realm, a place she as Éan could only be called to, and a place where no harm could come to her.

  No Faol with intention to harm would be allowed to enter. Of this her eagle was so certain, even her human heart had to accept it.

  “I am called Bryant.”

  “You are Faol.”

  “You are Éan?” he asked, rather than stated.

  “I am.”

  “Are you celi di?” Though the way his storm-cloud gaze roamed over her said spiritual guidance was the last thing on his mind.

  “No.” Familiar shame that had no place here still assailed her. “I am nothing special.”

  “I am sure that is not true.”

  “You would not know.” All urge to smile had fled.

  Concern darkened his eyes, as if her sadness truly bothered him. “I am drawn to you.”

  She merely shook her head.

  Bryant dismounted with an ease of movement she knew was not simply because they conversed in the spirit realm. His natural grace delighted her here, though were she to see it at home, she would consider it a threat she knew.

  “Were you sleeping when you came to this place?” he asked as he came near, seemingly unconcerned with what his horse might get up to without its rider.

  “I was.”

  “So, this is a dream?” he asked.

  “No.” Even in her dreams, her terror of the Faol would never let her stand so close to him.

  “Where are we then?”

  “You are so sure I have the answers?”

  “I know only that I do not.”

  “It is the Chrechte spirit realm.”

  “I have heard stories.” He frowned. “But surely this is not real. This is naught but a dream.”

  She put her hand out, rejoicing in her temerity to do so, and touched his muscular arm. His hand came up seemingly of its own volition to cover hers. Warmth spread between them, though the mists surrounding them were still cool in the early morning a
ir of this place.

  “This does not feel like a dream,” he said with quiet awe.

  “Because it is not.”

  “But who are you, if not celi di, to bring me here?”

  “I did not bring you.”

  “Then I brought you?” he asked, sounding unsure.

  “No. Perhaps we are not even here for each other, merely at the same time.”

  It was his turn to say, “No,” but with a great deal more vehemence than she had uttered the denial. “You are here for me.”

  “You did not even know where you were; how can you be so sure of that?”

  “My wolf wants you.”

  There was no mistaking the heat in his grey eyes.

  “Perhaps wolves are not taught they cannot have everything they want, but we of the Éan know differently.”

  He tugged on her hand, moving her to stand between his feet, so close their bodies touched.

  Her heart raced, but it was not in terror. Her breath caught, but not because her lungs refused to work. For the first time in five years, Una found herself wanting to be near another adult, craving a physical closeness she was sure would be denied her always.

  “You crave me as well,” he claimed, his expression no longer confused, but knowing in a way that made heat pool low in her belly.

  “Here, I may feel all that I am denied when I am fully myself.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his head bent as if to listen more closely.

  Or kiss her.

  Was it possible that she actually hoped for the latter?

  “I cannot abide any but my parents and the very young in close proximity.”

  “Why?”

  “It is not something I would speak of here.” The ugliness of her past and her ongoing pain did not belong in this beautiful place.

  “One day you will tell me.”

  She laughed then, as she so rarely did—and only then around the children. “You assume we will see one another again.”

  “I am living among your people now. If I do not see you in this miraculous place again, I will see you in your village.”